In Less Than Twelve Hours
by Alex L. Kerr
Summary: "This time the brandy went smooth down a woman's throat and the glass was left on the mahogany side table with the brilliant scarlet half-moon imprint of her lips. She was waiting and at six pm. Six pm the death knell would ring." Basically what I think's going to happen in the S9 finale. If you're into S9, this fic'll probably be a good fit ;) Brothers-centric though fyi.
1. In Less Than 12 Hrs Pt 1

Five pm. It'd been five pm when they'd arrived at the abandoned luxury hotel, stuck in foreclosure or maybe probate, dying a slow miserable death as dust settled over gleaming polished banisters, marble bar counters, crystal chandeliers. White sheets draped over antique furniture, leather armchairs, intricately carved stools and side tables.

What had once been the 'gentleman's club,' a space only for the hotel's most esteemed and distinguished male guests, was now back in operation. The covers thrown off furniture, brandy uncorked, the finest crystal tumblers rolling the exquisite, aged amber liquid in them once again.

This time though. This time the brandy went smooth down a woman's throat and the glass was left on the mahogany side table with the brilliant scarlet half-moon imprint of her lips. She was waiting and at six pm. Six pm the death knell would ring.

* * *

Five-thirty pm. Five-thirty pm was when Crowley had snapped his fingers to freeze Sam in time before going in. Six-thirty pm was when Crowley assured Dean that he meant Little Brother - Little Moose - no harm but that they had to talk. Five-thirty pm was when Dean had no choice but to listen.

* * *

Five-forty pm was when Sam resumed his graceful stealth into the hotel and neither Dean nor Crowley told as they followed in after him. The time lapse went unnoticed.

* * *

Five-forty-five and Crowley handed the First Blade over to Dean. He hid himself as the brothers encountered the first wave of demons guarding Abaddon's fortress.

* * *

Six o'clock. Abaddon heard the ancient hand-wittled cuckoo birds pop out, sing and spin above the old grandfather clock's softly swinging pendulum. She took another sip of her brandy as the boys arrived just in time.

She used Sam. Slammed him against the wall to slowly suffocate the life out of him.

This was her leverage.

It made Dean angry; it made him desperate; it made him skip the theatrics, cut straight to bargaining, demanding that Abaddon ensure his brother's safety.

He was just wasting his time. She knew he'd agree to all her terms when his brother was dangling like a fish on a hook, choking and turning blue up against the wall completely at her mercy. Dean was wasting time, yes, but...

She really liked watching him beg.

That is, until she heard his last plea: a one-way direct ticket up to the heavens when Little Brother dies.

Taken by surprise, laughter just slowly bubbled out of her and she recalled the story of her mentor. "Isn't it funny," she'd asked, relishing the moment, the look of despair already seeded so deep into those green eyes, "how history repeats itself?"

A new, fresh, entirely pleasant idea occurred to her then.

"Dean," she dragged his name out, "if you want your brother to end up in heaven... Use the blade on him... right now... and I promise I won't hold his soul back."

She smiled and savored Dean Winchester's horrified expression.

"Consider it an initiation rite into my ranks," she offered playfully then paused to let a shadow of lust cast over her features, "and Dean? When you enter into my ranks, you will be top," she paused, tilting her head and licking her lips suggestively, "rank," she finished, grinning.

She added a wink and laughed again at the look of disgust that crossed Dean's face. He swallowed, conflicted, and eyed Abaddon. She betrayed nothing.

"These are my terms, Dean," she said, letting impatience flood into her cold, crisp words.

Shaking, Dean took a step closer to his gasping, writhing little brother. The blade vibrated in his hand and arm, the thing craving blood and Dean... Dean craved blood with it.

"That's right," Abaddon encouraged, "go on."

* * *

Six-thirteen and Sam was finally released. He fell unconscious to the floor at Crowley's feet. Less than three seconds later Abaddon's head _thunked_! and rolled, bloody and jagged, over the Victorian rug. Dean made a quip about getting stains out of it before turning to see Crowley taking his brother's pulse.

"He's alive," Crowley informed immediately, standing back up as Dean slid in to take over, Cain's successor shrinking down back into the one role that ever kept the world ordered for him, kept him balanced.

* * *

Six-fifteen. Crowley respectfully side-stepped Sam's unconscious form, Squirrel's universe having narrowed to include only him and his brother, and began to address the remaining demons that'd flown into the gentleman's club. He lazily poured a brandy for himself and made a point to use the same glass Abaddon had used. He wiped the lipstick off first, disgusted. He declared his reign over hell once again and introduced, "hell's newest... or - more accurately - _oldest_ weapon, ladies and gentlemen."

"And if any of you lot get even the slightest tingle to do anything even remotely like what this foolish piece of rubbish," Crowley poured his drink over Abaddon's severed head, "tried to do, know that this weapon is mine. I have his loyalty. He cannot be bought. Am I understood?"

All the demons unanimously nodded.

"Wonderful."

* * *

**Writer's Note**: What'd you think? ;) Next update tomorrow. Thank you so much for reading! Please comment/review if you can spare the time! ~ Alex


	2. In Less Than 12 Hrs Pt 2

Eight pm. It was eight pm when Sam finally came around. Thunder cracked and lightning lit the extravagant suite's interior design.

Sam was propped up by cushions in bed, an elegant canopy blocking his view of the vaulted ceiling that only the president's suite could boast.

"Dean?" Sam rasped, his throat bruised and sore. A small ornate lamp on the bedstand switched on, casting dim yellow light around them.

"Don't move. Cas is on his way. He'll heal you," Dean whispered, moving from the antique armchair and settling on the side of the king-sized bed. Sam hadn't been placed in the center of it; rather on the side closest to where Dean had been sitting.

Sam obeyed Dean's instructions to stay still. He scrutinized Dean, eyes squinting up at his brother, trying to figure out what he last remembered and, from that, how they could have possibly made it out alive and unburdened.

Dean leaned forward, confusing Sam for a moment before he realized Dean was reaching for something else on the nightstand.

"Here," he offered, pulling back to reveal a glass of small ice chips. Sam's hands were shaking but he took the glass and raised a chip to his lips, moistening them before popping in into his mouth and waiting for the ice to melt and soothe his throat.

The thunder rolled on, brief small flashes of lightning illuminating the room.

"What happened?" Sam whispered, deliberately speaking as softly as possible to spare his throat.

Dean pursed his lips, conflicted, obviously uncertain about how to explain. He sighed and finally gazed into his little brother's eyes. Sam saw despair. Hopelessness. All-consuming sadness.

"Dean what did you do?" Sam demanded harshly, his throat screaming out in protest.

Thunder clapped again and Sam could only hear the end of Dean's response.

"-gonna hurt yourself."

"Dean," Sam pressed, knowing his brother had warned him against speaking. He inwardly agreed but he wouldn't let it become a diversion. And he needed to know.

Dean sighed again and leaned over Sam's waist, looking down at his little brother.

"Crowley stopped time before we went in," Dean said, his voice rough like this was any other debrief. "He made me an offer and I took it."

"What was the offer?" Sam rasped, his heart beating heavy in his chest.

Dean tilted his head and stared sadly into his brother's eyes. Sam couldn't nail it down but it was somewhere between grief and defeat.

"Dean?" Sam asked, his fear mounting. Anger too. Anger was swelling up in him slowly and Sam was sure that it'd reach its height when Dean finally confessed to whatever inexcusably stupid thing he'd done. Because the way Dean was looking at him...

The rain wasn't letting up but the storm had abated. Just howling gusts of wind and water slamming against the building and onto the grounds. Dean's hollowed-out expression, looking like he was staring at something he'd lost but he was still only looking at Sam.

"Dean!" Sam yelled and his throat felt like it'd just torn apart. He gasped coughs in the aftermath and curled into himself. He felt hands lift him up under his arms and fell forward against Dean for a second as his brother propped the pillows up higher. He was set back down against them, this time completely level with his brother.

He could feel Dean's reluctance to pull away from him, the brief gentle palm against the side of his head that he could tell Dean wanted to keep there. He pulled back anyway and, not knowing what to do with that hand, landed it lightly on Sam's knee.

"Have a few more ice chips," Dean suggested tiredly. Sam didn't move, determined to get an answer out of his brother. He just kept still, his eyes like knives trying to stab the truth out of his own brother. Dean glanced up and curled his lips with impatience.

"Have a few more ice chips and I'll tell you."

Sam's turn to get impatient, annoyed that Dean always seemed to pull the same shit. Always knew how to manipulate him into doing what he wanted first because Dean had grown up with leverage as the eldest and knew how to wield it to his advantage. Sam was never privy to those strategies. Those strategies were off-limits. Playing dirty. Withholding and oppressive and...

"God damn it Dean just tell me!" Sam rasped, furious.

Sam couldn't believe his eyes when Dean flinched at his words and looked down at the bedspread like he was trying to hide whatever emotions were playing over his face. This was the first time - the very first time - Sam had ever fired shots and Dean didn't balk or dismiss or keep an air of indifference - his poker face - up.

When Dean looked back up to Sam, his eyes were watery, on the brink of tears, and Sam's fear ratcheted up a few more levels, genuinely frightened now of what offer he'd taken that could reduce him to this.

"Sam..." Dean started, his voice trembling. His expression took a turn and he actually smiled right before blinking a tear out of his eye, "I remember when you took your first steps, you know. I was the one trying to get you to stand and walk to me. Mom was watching but uh," Dean sniffed, "she let me do all the work because it made me happy," Dean smiled painfully at Sam's uncomprehending expression.

"Dean, you're scaring me," Sam said softly.

_Dad, you're scaring me._

Dean blinked, shocked at the revelation. Somehow along the way somewhere he'd turned into his father. His own words to the man just before he died echoed over and over again in his mind... but in his little brother's voice now.

Dean clipped a sob off but he couldn't control the tears as he fulfilled his side of the dialogue.

"Don't be scared, Sammy," he reassured, love and loss intermingling to create the same tone his father had.

"Dean-"

"Listen to me," Dean grabbed Sam's hand and held it. The older brother sniffed and blinked tears out of his eyes, "Sam I know we've been having some serious issues and I understand - I've always known - exactly where you've been coming from with the terms you set, you know?" Dean's voice faltered and dipped into silence for a second, his words steamrolling over any possibility of a real sob but now, in the quiet, Sam could hear his brother trying to pull himself together. Roiling with fear, Sam listened as hard as possible, trying to understand where Dean was going with this.

Dean unconsciously grasped Sam's hand tighter and Sam gripped back. With a small huff, Dean looked back up and continued, "but Sam..." Dean trailed off, tears starting to flow. Sam shifted uncomfortably in bed, watching his brother like a car wreck, disbelieving it was even him talking.

"Sam I could never agree to those terms," Dean said lowly, looking into Sam's eyes with the love and devotion he'd always had, "Not ever."

Sam's own eyes were starting to water now, wondering how deeply he'd actually cut Dean by what he'd said in the past.

"I'm so sorry..." Dean trembled, "I'm so sorry for what I did but..." he sniffed and exhaled, "whatever I might be to you now, you need to know that you will always... be my little brother," Dean promised, "okay?"

Shaken, Sam nodded.

"Okay Dean," he said quietly, suddenly feeling like he was five years old again, taking cues off his brother, scared and insecure. Dean nodded, tried to smile, couldn't, then just looked down to stifle a couple sobs.

Sam had wanted an apology. And he had wanted to hurt Dean - wanted Dean to know exactly what the consequences of his actions had been and suffer for them. Rejecting Dean as his sibling had been a solid blow. Telling him that he'd let him die had been another.

Sam never expected he'd get his apology like this though. He'd never expected to diminish his brother this far...

Because Dean fixed things.

It was one of the deepest convictions Sam had and a year trying to convince himself otherwise was a drop in the ocean compared to the lifetime of moments Dean had been there for him. Been there for him in the _right_ way. Been there to assess a problem, take over, take responsibility, and solve. Dean was Sam's safety net but not now.

Now Sam had to be Dean's.

"Dean... Dean, it's... okay," Sam tried, not knowing what to do. He'd never seen Dean like this before. He reached out and touched Dean's hand, the hand covering his face as his larger-than-life, charismatic, hardened big brother wept.

At Sam's light touch Dean seemed to activate. He moved himself up the bed fast and reached out to embrace his brother with incredible careful strength - strength Sam knew he was only using because his big brother was anticipating that Sam would try to struggle out of it.

Sam didn't. He was worried for Dean - worried for his brother. And yes, Sam had said they weren't brothers but this... this was different. Something was wrong. Really really wrong.

But Dean couldn't tell any of this with the way he was holding on. He was just blindly bracing his little brother, gentle yet willfully oblivious to Sam's body language or movement. Dean's mouth leaned towards Sam's ear.

"I love you Sammy," he choked out, kissed Sam against his temple, gave one last affectionate squeeze and then released him entirely to stand up.

"What-"

"I've got to go," Dean interrupted, sniffing and wiping tears off his face. "Eat some more ice chips. Cas'll be by soon," he continued, suddenly trying to put up the facade again. This was all routine - standard protocol.

Until Dean looked his brother in the eye one last time and, his voice level, said, "Bye Sammy."

"Dean-!"

But Dean was already walking to the door, opening it, and closing it quietly behind him.

* * *

Writer's Note: Thank you for reading! Please comment/review if you can spare the time!


	3. In Less Than 12 Hrs Pt 3

_Five-thirty pm. Five-thirty pm was when Crowley had snapped his fingers to freeze Sam in time before going in. Six-thirty pm was when Crowley assured Dean that he meant Little Brother - Little Moose - no harm but that they had to talk. Five-thirty pm was when Dean had no choice but to listen._

* * *

Five thirty-four pm. Frustrated, Crowley needed to make himself clear.

"Listen to me, Dean. Abaddon _will_ make you an offer. She will take Sam away and she _will_ make you kill him." Crowley paused, desperately hoping his words would sink in. "Now I am giving you," Crowley paused, trying to get a hold of his own anger, "a better offer! Take it!" he whispered viciously.

Dean stared daggers at Crowley. He glanced at his frozen-in-time brother, about to enter the service tunnel entrance of the hotel. He looked lethal, determined... Steadfast, healthy and strong. All while Dean had been slipping into despair, alcohol, and a craving for power that he'd still only tasted a couple times from holding that knife...

But of course Sam didn't know that. Since the beginning of all this Dean had been concealing - trying to give the impression that he was fine. That he could handle everything without a confidante. That he could be as self-sufficient without Sam as Sam was without him.

He wasn't though. He wasn't okay and as much as he wanted to, he couldn't bring himself to reach out for help when Sam was doing so good. It gutted him every day that Sam was so put-together without Dean's friendship, without their camaraderie, without the safety net of each other's emotional presence. Dean's confidence was crumbling while Sam was flourishing. If Sam could do it though, Dean hadn't stopped trying.

But he was getting tired. And he was still slipping, hiding, keeping everything to himself and the only person that knew all of it was the man standing before him, offering him Dean's version of a happy ending - his little brother growing old with a wife and kids chugging Viagra... with the only stipulation was that he couldn't be part of it.

It broke Dean's heart but he'd always known he'd die before seeing any of it anyway. Even if he wasn't dead, Dean couldn't see Sam welcoming him into it anyway... Not the way they'd been going. Sam's distance from Dean was _helping_ him.

Dean pulled himself back to the moment. He needed to assess this reasonably.

"What if I refuse to take either offer?" Dean argued.

"Then Sam dies," Crowley said harshly, "and he goes to hell. Abaddon wants both of you." Crowley shifted and lowered his gaze. "I just want you."

"What if you're wrong though. What if Abaddon offers me a better deal?"

"She won't," Crowley replied instantly, "I'm so sure that I'll even allow my deal to be conditional: if she gives you a better one, our's is null and void."

Dean blinked at Crowley, his expression blunt surprise. Crowley rolled his eyes.

"I know her ilk," Crowley said with disgust, then leaned forward conspiratorially, "She's not in sales," he whispered. "You tell her what I'm offering you and she's not gonna promise Sam a mansion and a ferrari! She's gonna cut into Sam's belly and rip out his intestines!"

Dean grimaced and looked back at his brother. Crowley stretched his back and cracked his neck.

"Dean? Take the offer," he said solemnly. Somehow it even sounded kind. Dean just kept his eyes on his Sam, trying to burn the image into his memory. Sammy looked so good. He was so dedicated, driven and honest, Dean thought wistfully.

_I'm so proud of him..._

"You know. I haven't been blind to what's been going on between you and your brother. Sam doesn't want you anymore and you? You want the knife. Dean you should give Sam what he wants-"

"-And what do you think he wants?" Dean spat.

"To be free of you," Crowley responded sincerely. Dean flinched at the truth finally spoken aloud. "To be free of you, Dean," Crowley repeated, driving that stake in deep, "you know it as well as I do. You tricked and betrayed him, you dragged him from a peaceful death back into this life, a life he never wanted in the first place. _You_ are to blame for Sam's memories of Kevin dying at his hands. _You_ are at fault for everything that haunts Sam and everything that will ever haunt Sam, do you understand me?"

Dean cringed and turned away, willing to acknowledge Crowley's words but unwilling to address them.

"You never even apologized, did you?" Crowley tilted his head, now rather sadistically amused. "You and your self-righteous shit. I was in that church too, you know. I heard everything Sam confessed. All his sins were tied up in having disappointed _you_," Crowley said, shaking his head slowly, smiling, and added three condescending tsks. "Well look who's the disappointment now."

Dean licked his lips and braced his hand against the wall. It looked smooth but Dean was on the verge of collapse, need and guilt and desperation roiling his stomach and pricking underneath every inch of his skin. Crowley's words were sharp arrows of truthful insight that Dean had been trying to deny for too long now. Dean flashed back to his own words...

_I may not think things all the way through. Okay? But what I do, I do because it's the right thing. I'd do it again._

Crowley looked up to the sky and idly watched a storm rolling in from the East. Dean didn't look at him when he spoke.

"I did what I thought was right," Dean huffed, his voice too loud; overcompensating.

"Sam doesn't want a brother that thinks what you did was right, Dean," Crowley responded immediately.

_We are family, okay? _

_...Everything that has ever gone wrong between us has been because we're family._

Crowley watched a tear fall from Dean's silhouetted face as he leaned against the wall.

"Dean, take my offer. Sam will lose you but he hasn't really wanted you in awhile anyway, has he? All you are is judgment, violence, betrayal, chaos to him-"

"-You're trying to manipulate me just so I'll take your offer," Dean claimed, his voice, just like his resolve, weakening.

"No, Dean. You know I'm right. But yes I would very much like it if you would take my offer. Let Sam leave this miserable wayward existence you've forced onto him. Let him _be_, for once, and come with me to live as royalty."

Dean closed his eyes and wiped his face, trying to think of another way out. Truth was though he was too exhausted, too unstable... He needed that blade... He needed... He needed clarity.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to think of what Sam would tell him to do. Sam would probably tell him to reject the deal. Kill them both.

Dean shook his head.

"Sam... Sammy would want me to kill you both even if he died in the process," Dean admitted, his voice now shaking uncontrollably. Crowley nodded, as if he expected this from Dean.

"Yes I think he would. You have to ask yourself two things about that plan, Dean. One, is it really in you to let your brother die tonight?"

Crowley's phrasing struck a memory...

_I was ready to die, Dean! -I know. But I wouldn't let you, because that's not in me._

"-Two, if we both die, someone else will rise as the new king or queen of hell... and _you_ will still be Cain's successor. For the rest of your life you will have this curse on you. And if your _brother_ still ends up riding with you, let's just say it'll be tempting every demon's sadistic need for poetic and historical symmetry," Crowley smiled at his own cleverness. "Dean if you thought you and your brother attracted trouble before, well..." Crowley stopped, allowing for Dean to fill in the blanks.

"Better the devil you know, Squirrel," Crowley murmured wisely.

"Take my offer and make this sacrifice. Show Moose that you're able to make a good decision for once."

_...You are certainly willing to do the sacrificing as long as you're not the one being hurt..._

Dean sniffed and stood up straight. He looked Crowley in the eye. His expression was angry but Crowley knew masks when he saw them.

"Will Sam be happy?"

Crowley put his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

"I can't see the future but when you blasted off to purgatory and he was alone, he went off the radar and found himself a potential Mrs. Moose, didn't he?"

Dean nodded meekly and looked at the frozen image of his little brother. Sam was so competent. Capable. A survivor. He was nothing - and would be nothing - like the mess he'd been without him that summer Dean had been in hell... Sam would be able to survive this. Sam would be able to create happiness for himself once Dean was gone...

"Dean, this isn't a deal. It's an opportunity for redemption in Sam's eyes," Crowley pressed.

"How do I know you won't renege?"

"Dean, I'm insulted. Have I ever broken a contract?"

Dean eyed the future king. He had to acknowledge that Crowley, as repulsive as the man was, had always stayed true to his word.

"I've known you and your brother for a long time now, Dean. We've fought together. We've saved each other's lives. Abaddon is going to use Sam as leverage but _I_ know I have gained your _loyalty_. That is why I feel confident in offering you this option in the first place. If I didn't think I could trust you... I'd let you kill Abaddon and then just use the same tactic as she did to make you mine," Crowley purred. "But positive incentives are stronger. So I'm giving you this. Take it." Crowley looked at his watch. "We don't have much time."

Dean wiped his face free of the silent tears he'd been shedding since they'd begun this discussion, straightened his posture, set his jaw, and squared off in front of Crowley.

"Deal."

* * *

_Five-forty pm was when Sam resumed his graceful stealth into the hotel and neither Dean nor Crowley told as they followed in after him. The time lapse went unnoticed._

* * *

**Writer's Note: **Thank you so much for reading! How was it? Please comment/review! ~ Alex


	4. In Less Than 12 Hrs Pt 4

Eight-thirty. Ten minutes after Dean had left Sam in this decadent hotel suite alone, scared and still injured, Castiel appeared.

Sam had worked his way up to something all too closely resembling a panic attack.

"Cas!" Sam cried, his eyes lighting upon the angel.

Castiel walked swiftly towards him and raised his hand to Sam's forehead. Sam flinched and he stopped.

"Would... you rather not be healed?"

Sam absolutely would rather not be healed. He didn't want an angel ever touching him again.

He swallowed and it was agony. Speaking was worse. He desperately needed his voice to get answers from Cas. Gritting his teeth in preparation, he whispered, "no. Please just do it," and closed his eyes.

He felt Cas's cool finger land on his skin and a moment later his throat lacked complaints. He still felt the ghost of pain but he could move past it. He ripped open the covers.

"Where's my brother?" He asked hurriedly, searching for his shoes and finding them by the foot of the bed.

"I thought you weren't calling him that anymore," Castiel said, idly curious.

"Cut the shit Castiel. Where's my brother?" He asked again while he slipped his shoes on and went for his jacket that'd been placed nearby.

"Sam-"

"_Where is he_?!" Sam shot back angrily, throwing his jacket on and getting to the door. Castiel remained where he was by the side of the bed and pivoted to face the younger brother.

"Dean made a deal with Crowley, Sam."

"So he's with Crowley? Good, let's go get 'im, c'mon-" Sam said, energized, expecting Cas would follow him on this.

"No," Cas replied firmly. Sam's heart caught in his throat. He stood there, staring at the angel, letting his silence beg an explanation.

"Sam, Dean agreed to work with Crowley in hell as Cain's successor."

"What?" Sam blurted, disbelieving. Cas stared at him, his whole being radiating empathetic apology.

"I thought Dean told you..."

"Why did he do it?" Sam asked, frantic. But as the nerves and static shock left his mind, Sam remembered what Dean had said.

"Castiel, _why did he do it_?" Sam shouted, desperate.

"You," Cas said simply, "he did it to save you."

It took a second to sink in but when it did Sam leaned his back against the door, stunned.

"He made that deal of his own free will. He's already gone. He left with Crowley when he left you." As Cas explained Sam closed his eyes and slid to the floor, overwhelmed. A few seconds of silence and Sam could hear Cas's footsteps as they approached.

Cas crouched down as Sam covered his face with his hands and placed a delicate hand upon the younger brother's back, trying to comfort.

"Sam. Dean knew this was how it was going to end-"

"No!" Sam yelled, pissed at the very idea.

"-Yes, he did, Sam. Cain killed his brother so he could go to heaven. Dean was fated, the minute he received that mark, to do the same. He was offered that deal by Abaddon but he found a way to thwart it. Do you understand, Sam?"

Sam shook his head in denial, on the verge of tears.

He had had no idea any of this had been happening. Dean just... hadn't told him.

"Why didn't he tell me?" Sam asked, frustration and anguish mixing together. How could Dean do this? Why hadn't he told him? Sam could've _helped_. He could've saved Dean...

Castiel sighed and he rubbed Sam's back, an unusually appropriate gesture for him. It made Sam choke a sob, wishing the gesture of affection was coming from his brother.

"Many reasons," Castiel said bluntly. "He didn't want to manipulate you with his own dire circumstances."

"That's... stupid," Sam coughed wetly.

"I know," Cas said sadly but continued, "He didn't want to talk about you and him being Cain and Abel parallels. He thought it'd generate more tension-"

"-What?!"

"-He also understood his fate and found it acceptable given your opinion of him."

Sam, lost and confused, sniffed and looked up at the angel, a bewildered look on his face.

"Sam you told him you didn't see him as your brother," Cas said in a small, quiet tone of reproach.

"No!"

Cas's turn to look confused before his features smoothed out again. He sighed and tilted his head, his clear blue eyes compassionate as they stared into Sam's red-rimmed hazel.

"...But Dean still took it that way?"

Sam couldn't argue that. He knew how Dean had interpreted his words.

"Sam," Castiel said kindly, "when Dean and I were in Purgatory - you had no idea where we were - and you were capable of finding someone new. Loving them. Settling down with them."

"_What_?!" Sam cried through gritted teeth. "What has that got to do with _any_ of this?" Sam shouted, pissed, but his voice kept breaking with emotion.

"So you can move on, Sam. Dean knew he could kill Abaddon and he knew he could get Crowley to alter the contract on his fate. He made sure that you'd be able to live a long, natural life before you went to heaven in exchange for his service as the Mark of Cain's successor," Cas explained gently. He lowered his voice, mourning his best friend as he spoke to the man's brother. "Cain didn't get that kind of deal for his brother. You should be proud of him, Sam. He leveraged everything he was to get you where you are right now: healthy, autonomous, unattached..." Cas trailed off, saddened by the look of traumatized repulsion on Sam's face.

Cas sighed and pressed a palm to Sam's head.

"Start over, Sam. Dean wants it this way," Cas promised and with that, disappeared.

Sam fell into sobs, alone on the floor of the luxurious president's suite in an abandoned Victorian hotel. Not another soul in sight for over twenty miles. The rain clattered on against the walls and roof.

After exhausting himself with tears, an idea came to him and Sam begged for mercy as he removed his jacket, kicked his shoes off, and slid back into bed. _Please God_, he prayed, _let this not be real_.

_Let me wake_ _up in the bunker... with Dean making bacon in the kitchen before a day of research..._

* * *

Five in the morning. It was five in the morning when Sam opened his eyes, blue dawn light streaming in through the windows. Disoriented, Sam called for the person he normally did to help him fill in the blanks. The person he'd always called to throughout his entire life to help him.

"Dean!"

Sam's eyes wandered as he groggily took in the ornate settings without fully comprehending it.

When no one replied, Sam rubbed his face and called again.

Like a switch that went off in his head, the events of the previous night came flooding back to him.

It'd all been real.

* * *

Five-oh-three. At three minutes after five, Sam proved Dean wrong... and shattered.

* * *

_**Fin**_

* * *

**Writer's Note**: Gosh, I'm evil, aren't I? I'm sorry if you guys thought this would all get resolved but... this is what I think will happen in the season finale! - We all know (as do the writers) that season 10's been green-lighted... so I'm expecting an equally devastating cliffhanger. It stands to reason, right?

But I might write a sequel to this fic so everybody can feel better. I'm really not as cruel as the SPN writers (hahaha).

Thank you so much for reading! Please comment/review if you can spare the time! ~ Alex


	5. What You've Become Pt 1

**Six Months Later...**

"You know, I really wish you'd stop calling me," Dean drawled lazily as he sat down on the grotty hardwood floor. He wore the same clothes, used the same expressions, looked exactly as he had before when he was human. He crossed his legs and placed his palms on his knees. He grimaced as he looked around the rickety shack Sam had chosen for their meeting. "Where even _are_ we?"

Sam blinked, always struggling to find words when he summoned his brother. He was well aware that Dean could just _not_ _come_ but so far Dean's always picked up the phone, so to speak. _There's still something_, Sam thought, _something good in him if he keeps coming back to me. _

Sam refused to think his traps or summons were that good. A less biased opinion, though, would likely promise him that was the case.

Sam hunted solo these days for a variety of reasons but these meetings were high on the list. He could never trust anyone with the knowledge that he could just ring the doorbell and Dean would come calling.

"Dean, you've got to listen to me-"

"How many times we gonna run 'round this block, Sam-"

"Ezekiel's after me."

Dean laughed. He picked at a piece of wood, tore it off, and casually flicked it over the devil's trap lines.

"You want me to kill 'im for you? I can do that," Dean offered with a jovial shrug. "Kinda comes with the job description, you know?" He put his hand up and ran it through the air like he was reading off a marquee: "Dean Winchester, Leader of the Knights of Hell..."

Sam's eyes widened, the pit in his stomach growing heavier.

"...and, y'know, angel killer."

"You're... you're making-"

"'cept Cas of course. Wouldn't kill Cas," Dean added as a cheerful afterthought.

"You're _making_ _knights_? You're not the only one now?"

Dean looked around and back at his brother like he was nuts.

"Uh, _duh_."

"Jesus Christ," Sam got up, covering his face with his hands as he paced in front of his seated brother, overwhelmed.

"Where the fuck have _you _been?" Dean laughed, confused.

Then it clicked.

"_Oh_!" He shouted, then started laughing. Sam turned sharply to look at his brother. "Oh... oh my god," Dean continued to laugh. "Oh man. We didn't talk that much, did we?" Dean let the silence linger. "Y'know," Dean waved his hand out, "Before I made my deal..."

"We're going to break that deal, Dean-"

"Oh," Dean waved dismissively and exhaled loudly, "don't even bother."

Sam's eyes flared and Dean raised an eyebrow.

"What? Am I pissing you off?" He teased.

Sam clenched his jaw shut, unwilling to let Dean get a rise out of him. Dean kept eye contact with Sam until he couldn't fight the urge to roll them. He sighed and looked up at his brother.

"Cain was the first knight of hell, just like me. And just like me, Cain trained and knighted the rest. It is my duty," Dean explained, his voice so solemn and dignified Sam thought he was going to throw up for a minute. Instead he just backed up to sit down on the crate he'd been using.

Dean sat up straighter and clasped his hands together.

"Now, oh beloved brother of mine, what can I do for you? I'd love to be given a reason to gank that angelic sonuva-"

"-What about your duty to me?" Sam asked softly, voice thick thick with emotion.

Dean stopped talking, dropped his hands in his lap and tilted his head. Sam lifted watery eyes to fix on his brother. "You're my brother-"

"Nah ah! No ahh... haha. _No_," Dean shook his head and ticked his finger back and forth, annoyed. "Don't you go pulling that card with me, man. You know my duty to you _as a_ _brother_ ended the minute I gave you to Ezekiel. Now, I'll kill that bastard because it's in my purview anyway but don't act like we're anything other than what we are."

Sam swallowed sickly.

"And what's that?"

Dean sneered and his eyes turned black with a blink.

"You want to work? Let's work," Dean recited smoothly, ignoring Sam's pathetic expression. Sam gave himself a few inhales before he knew he could keep his voice steady.

"I want Ezekiel dead."

"Good man," Dean replied immediately, blinking back to the green eyes Sam had known and trusted all his life... until now.

"On one condition."

Dean deflated just as he stood up.

"Man, I hate conditions..." He murmured, staring at his brother.

"I want to be the one to do it."

"But... we can rough him up first right?"

"No."

"_What_? What's the fun in that? I mean I know he possessed you but he betrayed me too, dude."

Sam shook his head.

"Just... no. I want him captured. That's all."

For the first time during the meeting, Dean looked genuinely angry.

"No."

"No what?" Sam asked, incredulous. His turn to laugh.

"No deal. I only go where I can have fun and _capturing_ an angel I got a problem with and _no retribution_?" Dean shouted, then lightened up and waved at Sam, "Fuck that. I'll put my PA on it or something..." Dean turned around, acting like he was about to get going when he stopped at the devil's trap line. "Dude and what the fuck is up with this?" He asked, obviously irritated beyond measure as he turned back to Sam gesturing at the trap. "You _know_ I'm not gonna kill you! C'mon!"

Sam shrugged.

"Didn't want you to vanish like you were gonna do just now."

Dean huffed and looked skyward, an old gesture he used to have when he was human and praying to God for patience. The familiar gesture dug into Sam just like all the other things Dean did that kept reminding him that this was _really_ his brother. Nothing possessing him, nothing influencing him. Dean had gone dark-side and yet he was still the man Sam had loved and looked up to all his life...

"Dean..." Sam got up to face his brother, the small devil's trap line along the floor creating an invisible boundary in the four-inch space of air between their faces. "How can you justify what you are?" Sam whispered.

Dean huffed and got ready to turn away.

"_Dean answer me!_"

Dean flinched, Sam's voice cutting his defenses down just for a moment. He looked away for a second, down at the floor in thought. He licked his lips and wiped his mouth.

"Sam," he started, then looked up at his brother, his eyes just as soft and empathetic as they'd been when he was human, "good and evil. The fight will never stop. Both sides are playing the same damn game - what difference does it make which one I'm on?"

"Dean you've always been _good_-"

"Oh, have I?" Dean asked, skeptical. "Seems to me I did a hell of a lot of bad even before I took this deal, Sam," Dean admitted sadly. He twitched a rueful smile and backed away from his brother. He idly checked his watch and sighed.

"You should stop calling me. I'm serious."

"Why, you got a date with a demon?" Sam asked bitterly, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"No," Dean turned back to him, "because as soon as you do, you might start to realize how I justify what I am."

Sam's anger flared again and his jaw set with determination.

"I want you... to capture the damn angel. Call me when you do," Sam demanded as he wiped a part of the devil's trap away with his foot.

"Yeah," Dean pursed his lips and cricked his neck, "we'll see about that," he said, pointedly looking at Sam before he walked out of the trap and transformed into smoke.

* * *

**Writer's Note:** Huzzah! I figured I'd just keep going with this story instead of creating a new one as the sequel. Just fyi In Less Than Twelve Hours was a canon prediction but now we're off into my own fantasy-writing world so strap on in we're going for a bit of a bumpy ride (nothing like trying to rekindle brotherly love when your brother's an apathetic demon, y'know? ;)

Thank you so much for reading! Please comment/review if you can spare the time! ~ Alex


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